More Than Friends (The Warriors)

by Laura Taylor

  He followed after her, his restraint shattering like fine crystal in the aftermath of her climax. She twisted above him in a final act of giving so starkly sensual and generously loving that he abandoned himself to the force bursting free of his body.

  Bathed in the fire of Leah’s love, Brett arched violently, a harsh, guttural cry escaping him as his hips jerked up off the bed. He spent himself in her heat, racked by seemingly endless waves of pleasure as he repeatedly thrust upward, finally shuddering as his climax tore through him.

  His strength sapped and his emotions vulnerable, he sank back against the headboard. He inhaled Leah’s light, sighing kiss as she slid her arms around his neck. Resting her head against his shoulder, she sprawled across him, their bodies still joined and their hearts beating as one.

  Unwilling to release her, Brett held her and stroked his hands up and down her back. He listened to her breathing change, felt her bones soften and her limbs grow lax. As she dozed in the security of his embrace, he dreamed of taking her again and again. And in the silence of the midnight hour he whispered of his loneliness and his love for her.

  They slept sporadically that night, both eager to indulge needs long denied. They rarely spoke as they feasted upon each other, sometimes with explosive haste, sometimes in a slow motion, almost too poignant ballet, and always with an intense passion as they plundered each other’s senses and conveyed emotions neither felt free to articulate.

  11

  Brett telephoned his superiors at Naval Intelligence while Leah showered and dressed the next morning. Patched through to Europe, he also spoke to Micah, who provided him with a firsthand description of the events that had taken place since their last conversation.

  Clad in pale–rose silk slacks and a matching tunic that flowed to her knees, and with her hair fashioned into a loose knot atop her head, Leah walked into his room as he recradled the telephone.

  "How goes the battle?" she asked, her heart speeding up as she admired the muscular lines of his naked body.

  He smiled at her, an almost boyishly triumphant expression on his face as he pushed up to his feet. He approached her with the predatory nonchalance of a male animal comfortable with himself and his physical attributes. Having experienced him as a lover, Leah suppressed a smile and forgave him his confident manner.

  "We’ve won the war," Brett said. "This one, anyway."

  Her eyes skimmed down, and then back up his powerful frame. She inhaled shakily, recalling in vivid detail the erotic night they’d just shared. When she met his gaze, she flushed and worked at getting her senses under control. She said softly, "It’s really over, and Matthew is safe?"

  He nodded, a half–smile still tugging at the edges of his sensual mouth. "It’s really over, and Matthew is fine. The terrorist leader we’ve been hunting for the better part of the last two years is now on his way to Gitmo, and most of his followers are dead."

  "You must be relieved."

  He absently smoothed his hand across her shoulder, up the side of her neck, and then cupped her cheek. His gaze piercing as he studied her, he admitted, "I’m not sure how I feel. In some respects, it’s almost anti–climactic."

  Leah flattened her palms against his chest, only half hearing his words. She absorbed his heat and felt the steady beating of his heart. Leaning forward, she pressed delicate but searing kisses to his nipples as she looped her arms around his waist. Looking up into his hard–featured face a few moments later, she asked, "Do you wish you’d been with Micah instead of baby–sitting me?"

  He gathered her into his arms, his nudity allowing her to experience his body’s instant reaction to the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest and the cradling width of her hips as she swayed against him. He lifted her, molding her to his body, shifting his narrow hips and hard shaft back and forth until he shuddered and then groaned into her mouth. Then, he kissed her like a man whose hunger for the woman in his arms would never be appeased in his lifetime.

  Leah clutched at his shoulders, aroused and shaking with desire once he released her lips. "You haven’t… answered… my question," she managed to gasp.

  "I think I just did." He smiled, studying her with eyes that glowed hot with unbanked hunger. "I’m where I want to be, Leah. Haven’t you figured that out yet?" He glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. "Can you be ready to leave in twenty to thirty minutes?"

  "Certainly, but what’s the rush?"

  "You have a date with Matthew." With that, he settled her on her feet before him and dropped a final hard kiss on her lips.

  Open–mouthed with surprise, she watched him stroll naked into the bathroom. The only thing that kept her from following him was the prospect of a reunion with their son.

  Despite her determination to remain calm, Leah grew tense as they approached the outskirts of Seattle. Because her memories of the past poured into her consciousness at an almost ungovernable speed, she recognized many of the landmarks she saw.

  She also started to recall her final days with Brett and the emotional roller coaster she’d ridden following their breakup. She realized now that her decision to move to Monterey had been born of despair. Her subsequent discovery of her pregnancy had terrified her at first, but Matthew had given her life new meaning and focus. Even though she’d fallen in love with Brett again, she felt anxious about the possibility of being hurt. She knew she wouldn’t survive losing him a second time. She also disliked the idea of subjecting their son to that kind of emotional chaos.

  "You’re awfully quiet," he commented.

  Leah glanced at him, not surprised by his observation. "I’ve been thinking about last night."

  "It was good."

  "It was more than good. It was amazing," she said.

  His gaze traveled from the rearview mirror to the cars in front of them. "Any regrets?"

  She sighed, determined to be honest with him. "No. None at all. It had to happen."

  "And?" he prodded quietly.

  "And I’m glad it happened."

  "I am, too."

  "I don’t know where we go from here, though," she admitted, hating the awkwardness she felt.

  "Last night you didn’t want declarations of love or promises that wouldn’t be kept. Have you changed your mind, Leah?"

  "How do I anticipate or plan for the future if I haven’t remembered all of my past?"

  "I guess that depends on the person."

  "You’re a big help," she snapped, her emotions more delicate than she realized.

  "You didn’t want my help last night. You wanted my body."

  Startled by his blunt remark, she really looked at him. She saw his grim facial expression as he watched the road, and she read the tension in the lines of his broad shoulders. Garbed in navy slacks and sweater, he reminded her of a night creature capable of disappearing into the darkness. "I wanted much more than your body, and you needn’t portray me as calculating. It’s neither fair nor accurate, and you know damn well I’m not built that way."

  "That wasn’t my intent, but I guess you have every right to be suspicious of my motives." He flicked a glance in her direction. "You’ve done very well on your own for more than six years. You don’t need me or anyone else messing with your emotions or your successful life, do you?"

  "I don’t know what I need," she confessed. "I’m not sure of anything right now. It’s too soon to make decisions about the future." She hesitated for a moment. "What about Matthew?"

  "What about him?" Brett asked.

  "You’re his father. He is your son. You have rights, but the real issue is that you need each other. That trumps everything else, Brett."

  "So you intend to grant them, even given what you know about me now?"

  "You need him as much as he needs you," she said a second time. "Everything I’ve learned about you this week assures me that you’re an honorable man who has a conscience. On the other side of the coin, I’m remembering pieces of our past, especially those final months in D.C. You’re in a ris
k–filled occupation, so we’d need to work around it so that Matthew isn’t placed in jeopardy again."

  "Say that to me once your memory is fully restored. Then I might believe you."

  "I hate the cynicism I hear in your voice."

  "Just being practical, Leah. I don’t have any illusions left. I know it’s unlikely that there’s any room for me in your life. I was a fool to think that there might be. But where my son’s concerned, I do intend to exercise my rights. Once I’m sure I won’t endanger him, I’ll fight you tooth and nail if you try to deny me a place in Matthew’s life. Fair warning."

  Leah bowed her head and rubbed her temples. She didn’t feel prepared to do battle with Brett, nor did she have any desire to be placed in an adversarial position over the welfare of their son. Too much was at stake, and Matthew didn’t deserve to be caught in a tug–of–war between his parents. "Do you think we can have this conversation when I’m capable of holding up my end of it? I’m operating at a slight disadvantage right now."

  He gripped the steering wheel, but he didn’t force the issue. He simply gave her a hard look as he slowed the car and turned into a long driveway that led to a spacious home set well back from the road.

  Leah noticed the name on the mailbox. HOLBROOK. Her heartbeat accelerated. Leaning forward, she studied the sprawling, Tudor–style dwelling and beautifully manicured lawn. Towering Douglas firs lined the drive and bordered either side of the property. Memories that reminded her of splotches of paint on a blank canvas came to life in her mind.

  "You grew up here," Brett said as he scanned the grounds for any hint of a threat.

  Leah assumed he saw nothing amiss when he proceeded slowly up the driveway. She glanced his way, a hesitant smile on her face. "I recognize the house. There’s a row of swings behind the garage, a pool out back that was installed after Dad had his heart attack, and I planted the flowers that line both sides of the courtyard the first time I came home to visit after I had Matthew." She frowned. "Is my father in good health?"

  He nodded. "Micah and I wanted to make sure he stayed that way, so we had a physician assigned to the security team just in case Martin had any unexpected problems that Helene couldn’t handle. It turns out that the doctor is an avid fisherman and welcomed a trip to the Pacific Northwest."

  "Did he? Have any problems, I mean?" As she spoke, Leah recalled her father’s compassion and support when she’d made her decision to have Matthew despite her unmarried state.

  "None at all." Brett positioned the car so that he had an encompassing view of the property. Turning off the ignition, he made no move to exit the vehicle. Instead, he checked his watch and then settled back in his seat. He continued to scan the area.

  Watching him, Leah realized that his behavior was more a habit than conscious action on his part. "Are we early?"

  "Micah said to expect them just about now."

  "What else did Micah say?" she asked in an effort to focus on anything but the nervousness she felt at the prospect of seeing her son.

  "The two men who followed us when we left San Francisco were actually police officers on a bona fide vacation." He chuckled ruefully, but his humor quickly faded as he studied a line of fir trees located about fifty yards from their parked car. He frowned and his eyes narrowed when the branches repeatedly stirred.

  Leah held her breath as Brett eased his hand to the weapon wedged beneath his thigh. He muttered a self–deprecating curse a few seconds later when he noticed two squirrels chasing each other from tree limb to tree limb. A few minutes later, they both noticed a late–model station wagon and a dark brown van. The two vehicles moved up the driveway at a sedate pace. The driver of the van flipped his lights on and off, and then the driver of the station wagon did the same.

  Brett cautioned, "Get down and stay put for a minute." He exited their rental car, gun in hand as he crouched down and tracked the two vehicles.

  Leah prayed that his caution was unnecessary. Still prone on the front seat, she jumped when Brett tugged open the car door a few minutes later. Peering at him, she saw him raise his hand and signal the two vehicles, but she waited for him to motion her up before she lifted her head.

  Leah scrambled out of the car, hesitating when Brett placed a hand on her arm. "Your parents are up to speed on what’s happened, but the boy isn’t. We didn’t want him frightened."

  She searched his face through the tears suddenly blurring her vision. "How do I thank you?" she asked as she gripped his hands.

  He looked as though she’d just slapped him. His façade of the competent professional shattered. Leah finally saw the strain in his features and the bleakness of his dark eyes. Brett freed himself from her grasp and moved back a step. Fumbling for the aviator–style sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket of his pullover, he put them on.

  "Brett…"

  "You don’t have to thank me, damn it," he said in a voice as unyielding as granite. "Just try to forgive me for what I did to us."

  "Mom! Hey, Mom! I caught this great fish," Matthew shouted as he barreled out of the station wagon and shot across the lawn.

  Torn between Brett’s unexpected remark and the sound of her son’s voice, Leah said, "Do not disappear before we have a chance to talk."

  "I can’t stay, Leah. I have to get back to the East Coast. My flight leaves in four hours."

  "Hey, Mom! Did you hear me?"

  "I’ll take you to the airport," she said. "Promise me you won’t leave on your own."

  Brett reluctantly nodded. He yanked off his sunglasses, his gaze sliding from Leah’s face to the child bearing down on them. She saw the hunger and pain in Brett’s eyes as he studied his son before he grimaced and walked away.

  Leah turned and dropped to her knees. Her dark–eyed, dark–haired dynamo of a son raced toward her and then launched himself into her welcoming arms. In that instant she remembered how much and how desperately she loved this innocent child, and she also remembered that he’d helped to ease the pain she often felt at living her life without Brett Upton.

  "Grandpa cleaned it, and Grammy cooked it for me. Mom! You shoulda been there. It was awesome."

  She laughed, hugging him so tightly that he asked, "What’s wrong, Mom?"

  Her memories of him crashed in around her, making her dizzy and grateful for his very existence.

  "Nothing, sweetheart. I’m just glad to see you."

  "Who’s that man?" he asked, his curious gaze locked on Brett, who stood talking to the men who’d followed Matthew across the lawn.

  Leah experienced a moment of panic before her instincts took over. "He’s a very dear friend. He works with your Uncle Micah."

  "Then he must be a spy, too," the little boy said matter–of–factly.

  Nonplused, Leah studied his face. "What do you know about spies?"

  "They protect people, but they do it without anyone knowing it."

  She smiled to cover her shock. "Who’s been telling you about spies?"

  "Grandpa Martin, but he said it’s a family secret, so I can only talk about it with him and you."

  She drew him close, inhaling his boy smell and hugging him until he squirmed in her arms. "I love you, little man."

  He whispered, "I missed you, Mom," before he eased free and wandered in the direction of the man who’d fathered him.

  Leah got to her feet and watched her son. She held her breath as Matthew waited with unusual patience for Brett to notice him. She smiled with relief when Brett lowered himself to one knee in order to be at eye level with his son. Father and son both looked solemn as they shook hands.

  Leah saw surprise and sudden comprehension on the faces of the men who made up the security team dispatched on Brett’s orders as they observed the encounter between their commanding officer and the small boy they’d guarded. The men drifted off in different directions, tactfully allowing father and son the privacy they obviously needed, although they continued to remain alert to any possible threat that might disturb the Holbrook estate
. Her gaze still fixed on Brett and Matthew, Leah felt a burst of optimism spark to life inside her heart.

  "They need each other."

  She blinked and turned to the man who’d spoken. As she walked into her father’s embrace, Leah realized that he’d just verbalized her exact thoughts. "I know, Daddy. I know."

  The image of the two of them together—Matthew a miniature version of his father—stayed with her as the day unfolded. The activity level in her parent’s home prevented Leah from having a private moment with Brett, who had become the sole focus of Matthew’s attention.

  Later that afternoon, Leah drove Brett to the airport. As he paid for his reserved airline ticket and checked his luggage, Leah knew she had to trust her instincts for all of their sakes. By the time they reached the departure gate, Brett’s flight was in the process of being called.

  "I wish you could stay longer."

  Clearly surprised by her remark, he cast an exhausted look at her, searching her face as though to confirm her sincerity. "The paperwork that follows an international operation like this takes weeks, sometimes months, to clean up."

  "I realize you’re still on active duty, and I know you have responsibilities." She shoved a tendril of golden hair from her face. "I’m remembering even more now. Seeing Matthew and my parents helped the process."

  Brett nodded, shifting restlessly as the line of passengers grew shorter. "You’ll be fine."

  "Did you really not love me enough to marry me?"

  He looked stunned. "I was trying to protect you."

  "That’s not what I asked."

  He took her arm and led her to an alcove a few feet away. "I loved you, Leah, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life."

  She inched closer and slipped her arms around his waist. The scent of white ginger drifted up from her skin to tease his senses. Brett gripped her upper arms. Leah shivered beneath his hands, her hunger for him never dormant for long.